


Rest

by Dreamflower



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Minas Tirith after the war, Picnics, Sleepy hobbits, cousin fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamflower/pseuds/Dreamflower
Summary: Merry tries to get Pippin to have some rest. (Written in 2005 for Danachan, who simply asked for Merry and Pippin. Originally posted in 2005 at Stories of Arda.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Rest

REST

“Pip? Where’re Frodo and Sam this morning?” Merry was yawning and still pulling his clothing together as he entered the kitchen of the guesthouse, where Pippin was eating bread and jam, and drinking tea.

“Well, hullo, slug-a-bed. Just in time for second breakfast, you are. The King sent for Frodo this morning, and Sam went along, of course. Gandalf never came home last night, and Legolas was out to greet the Sun when she rose, like always. As far as I know, Gimli’s still snoring away.”

Merry pursed his lips. “And you are entirely too bright and chipper for someone who’s never been to bed at all. What time did they send you down from the Tower?”

“At sunrise when my duty was up. I had first breakfast with my messmates of the Third Company, and then came back here. I’m not sleepy at all, really.”

Merry looked dubious at this. Pippin was on his fourth night of what they called the “third watch”--from the middle of the night until morning, and he had not been going to sleep when he got off duty. The only sleep he’d had was a brief nap between late supper and rising to go to the Tower each night, not more than three or four hours at the most.

“Come on, sit down and have some breakfast now,” Pippin continued. “You’re off duty today, I take it.”

Merry nodded, as he helped himself to bread and jam and tea.

A few days earlier, Éomer and Éowyn had departed for Edoras to make preparations for Théoden’s funeral. Pippin had been horribly afraid they would order Merry to go along, but he had held his tongue, knowing that if they did, it would be hard enough for his cousin without him adding his whining into it. But nothing had been said, and finally Merry had screwed up his courage to ask. The young king of Rohan had smiled and shaken his head. “My friend Holdwine, I would not be so churlish as to take you away so soon from your kindred. Stay you here, with a few others of my _éored_ and help keep watch over my uncle until we return for him.” So now, every third day from dawn to dusk, Merry kept watch over Théoden’s bier as it lay in state.

“So then,” Pippin added “what do you want to do today?”

Merry had just taken a large bite. He rolled his eyes and pointed to his mouth, as he chewed and swallowed. He took a sip of tea before replying. “I take it you are not going to be sensible and go to bed?”

“I told you I’m not sleepy, really!”

“Well, then, why don’t we take a picnic up in the gardens at the Houses of Healing. We can have elevenses and maybe even luncheon there, and then we’ll see if we can’t find Legolas and Gimli and maybe go see what they are doing in the lower circles.”

Pippin went to change out of his livery, while Merry packed up a large basket with bread, cheese, fruit, some boiled eggs, some hard sausage and a bottle of wine. They went out into the sunshine of an early summer morning, and made the leisurely trek to the grounds of the Houses of Healing.

There was a spot there in the gardens that the hobbits had found made for lovely picnicking. A stone wall broke the wind that was a constant so high up, and all along it small fruit trees had been planted and trained to grow flat against the wall. There were beds of sweet smelling herbs scattered about, and low growing thyme made for a fragrant ground cover.

Merry and Pippin found a spot beneath a blooming pear tree, and sat with their backs against the sun-warmed stone of the wall as they dug into their provisions. Finally, sated, they put the remnants of their meal into the basket, and Pippin leaned companionably into his cousin’s side, as they watched the clouds.

“You know, Merry, this would be a wonderful place to fly a kite.”

“It would. Pip, do you remember that kite Frodo and I made for you once?”

Pippin nodded. “Vaguely,” he said.

“It was the first year your parents allowed you to come visit at Bag End while I was there in the spring--” Merry lightly spun the tale of how he and Frodo had been at their wit’s end to keep him amused, until Frodo came up with the idea of a kite. As he neared the story’s finish, his voice trailed off and he looked to see Pippin gently snoring against him. Carefully he placed his arm around Pippin’s shoulders, and leaned back against the wall. He could use a bit of a doze himself, he thought.

-oo000oo-

It was late afternoon.

Frodo and Sam exchanged a look and a smile as they glanced up at Aragorn. They had been talking with the King and Faramir when the messenger had apologetically interrupted. Now they stood there amid a small crowd which had gathered at a respectful distance, apparently with nothing better to do than to stare at two sleeping _pheriannath_.

“Pippin’s had the night watch this week,” said Frodo, “and Merry’s not slept well since Éomer and Éowyn left.”

Aragorn nodded, and looked at the healer who had sent the message.

“How long have they been there?”

“Nearly all day, sire.”

Sam shook his head. All this fuss over two sleeping hobbits. “Their bellies’ll wake them up soon enough, Strider.”

Aragorn chuckled. “I daresay you are right, Sam.”

Frodo smiled. “Actually, it does look like a nice spot for a nap.” He glanced significantly at the crowd, “though I don’t think I would care for the audience.” He started down towards his sleeping cousins, followed by Sam, certain that Aragorn would take the hint.

The King watched the other two hobbits sit down next to the sleepers, and turned to disperse the watchers. He turned to the healer and said “If they haven’t wakened by sunset, send young Bergil down to rouse them. In the meantime, leave them in peace.”

He turned to give them one last fond glance, before heading back to the Citadel.


End file.
